


Send Out the Call

by Rags (RedK_addict)



Series: Carpe Diem [2]
Category: Lord of the Rings - Fandom
Genre: Canon - Movie, Drabble Collection, Drama, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-24
Updated: 2010-05-24
Packaged: 2017-10-09 17:08:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedK_addict/pseuds/Rags
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A scene from Return of the King, as Pippin climbs up to light the beacon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Send Out the Call

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second in a series of drabbles/oneshots revolving around the idea of _carpe diem_, or "seize the day". There will be twenty-one stories in all, in various fandoms from Pirates of the Caribbean to Doogie Howser, involving various genres from drama to romance to humor, and taking various turns from canon to alternate-universe and beyond. Each story stands on its own, but together they form an extensive picture of what it's like to live in the moment. Please enjoy.

_Now The dark begins to rise, save your breath it's far from over  
Leave the lost and dead behind, now's your chance to run for cover  
I don't want to change the world, I just want to leave it colder  
Light the fuse and burn it up, take the path that leads to nowhere  
All is lost again, but I'm not giving in_

_-I Will Not Bow by Breaking Benjamin_

Pippin squeezed his eyes shut and clung desperately to the craggy stone wall. He never was the climbing type. In fact, come to think of it, hobbits _in general_ weren't the climbing type. They much preferred to keep their feet firmly planted on the ground at all times. And yet here he was, several feet – so far – up a sheer cliff of white stone, with still a great deal of climbing left to do.

How on earth did he get himself talked into these sorts of things? Oh yeah, Gandalf had asked. No, _asked_ wasn't really the word for it. Instructed was more like it, while dishing out a healthy portion of urgency. The bloody wizard had gone and appealed to his adventurous side, that part of him that wanted to be a part of something big and important. Curse his Took ancestry.

With a shaky sigh, he gritted his teeth and reached for the next crag of rock above his head. It's not like he could have very well said no, anyway. There was really no telling how things were going outside the city walls, but it looked pretty bleak from the inside. Minas Tirith was falling to the whims of a madman, and not even Gandalf was successful in staving off that assault.

And so here he was, climbing up a cliff toward the watchtower at the very top of the mountain. It had been hard enough convincing the Theoden to come to Gondor's aid, now they had failed to convince Denethor to light the beacons and call for help. Well, as the old hobbit saying went, if you want something done right you have to do it yourself. Besides, what Denethor didn't know wouldn't hurt him. And they could always just say it was an accident.

As Pippin reached the top of the cliff, he saw the two guards sitting at the door to the guardhouse. Neither of them was paying attention. After all, most people used the path that led to the front door of the guardhouse instead of scaling the cliff directly to the beacon itself. The beacon, he saw, was a giant pile of wood housed under a pavilion to keep it dry, with a torch burning brightly over it in readiness. As quietly as he could manage – and hobbits are _very_ good at moving quietly – he climbed up on top of the pile and pulled the flaming torch down from its resting place, throwing it down at his feet into the dry timbers.

The wood caught quickly, flames snapping in the wind that blew across the mountaintops. The little hobbit gazed proudly for a moment at the dancing flames, then turned his eyes to the distant peaks in Rohan's direction. A second flame, tiny and far-off in the distance, leapt up on a neighboring mountain. His heart leapt with it. As he clambered carefully back down the face of the cliff, he felt rather like that tiny flame that had started on the mountain – small, but burning brightly, and with more purpose than could ever be imagined.

Hope was rekindled.

_Carpe Diem_


End file.
